


hold to be steady

by harcourt



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Abuse, D/s-verse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this for the kink meme, M/M, Man Out of Time, Non Consensual, forced collaring, maybe domestic violence, traumatic D/s situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harcourt/pseuds/harcourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11264.html?thread=25929984#t25929984">this prompt</a>, whose premise is probably the darker flipside of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/523463">in the day</a>'s.</p><p>
  <i>In the 70 years Steve's been in the ice, there have been some amazing leaps in submissives' rights - a collared sub is no longer classed as the property of their Dominant, uncollared subs aren't expected to quietly put up with unwanted attention from Doms, [...]</i>
</p><p>
  <i>After Clint back chats Steve a little too much, Steve forcibly puts Clint down into subspace, tell him that'll he'll damn well listen to what Steve says, tells him that if he's going to be on the team then he'll be on there under Steve's conditions, which includes one of the new high-tech StarkIndustry collars that can't be removed without a specific code - one that Steve's not telling Clint</i>
</p><p>Things got better during the seventy years Steve was frozen, but Steve, man out of time, stayed the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold to be steady

There's a week where Clint falls off every damn thing he climbs on or that Tony deposits him on top of, and frankly, Tony's almost a bit surprised that he makes it to Friday, at the rate he's going. 

And then there's a gap of nothing, nothing, more nothing, alien threat and then nothing again, and then the next time Clint falls off something, he's wearing a collar. He comes back to the rendezvous point snarking at Tony, and is grinning up and back at him, bow in one hand, when Steve catches him by the back of the neck and hooks a couple of fingers under the edge of the collar to check that it's alright and to steer Clint towards the medic for a once-over.

And that's the picture the media go with; Clint half-turned and grinning, and Steve catching him by the collar.

The public, as the public is wont to do, make a fuss about it. 

Tony would make a fuss about it, too. Mock Clint like he had never been mocked before, and set a bar for all mockery to come, except that the second after that shot is taken, Clint goes oddly quiet and pliant under Steve's hand and doesn't respond to Tony's ribbing on the way home other than to glance at Steve and slouch further down in his seat.

\-----

Everything's been so chaotic and moving so fast that Steve doesn't even stop to consider who's what on his new team until they're leaving a debrief and Fury says, quietly, not meant to be heard by the rest of them, "A second, Barton. If you will?" And Steve's not used to hearing Fury's sentences end with a question mark, so despite himself, despite knowing that whatever is being said is supposed to be private, he lingers in the hall, just close enough that his enhanced hearing can pick up Fury saying, "Clint," instead of _Barton_ or _Agent_ or _Specialist_ , and following it with, "Been doing real good," and, "but if you need to, you come find me," and, "will send me everything in motherfucking triplicate if I don't keep you in order."

It's not the kind of tone Steve would have thought Clint, of all people, would put up with, so he's surprised to hear him laugh, low and friendly, with an ease Steve hadn't known Clint shared with the director. When he says, "Thank you, sir," it's just as soft, but also with a quiet note in it that Steve would recognize anywhere and he feels a bit guilty for doing it, but he glances through the gap in the cracked open door just in time to see Fury card his fingers through Clint's hair in a casual, friendly gesture. It's not possessive in any way, really, but it is telling. 

Clint is a sub, and somehow Steve hadn't known. Hadn't even suspected. He realizes he's been running under the assumption that the team consists of doms and Thor, with maybe a neutral or a switch thrown in but keeping quiet about it. Considering the work, it's not that unlikely for the team makeup to tend towards doms. Not when there isn't a pressing need to throw any available body into a uniform. Still, he's surprised to _be_ taken by surprise. 

But then, Clint doesn't kneel, not once that Steve has seen. Doesn't bow his head when people speak to him, unless it's Fury and he's being chewed out, and to be fair, _all_ of them do that, because Fury is a force to be reckoned with. Except maybe Bruce, because no one really wants to yell at Bruce with real venom in their tone. No one is that stupid. 

For a while after the revelation, Steve watches the team, but they still don't treat Clint like a sub. And it's not that they don't know, because when Tony gets into arguments with him, and it's Tony's sarcasm against Clint's sass, he'll sometimes say something like, "And that's why you don't have a collar, Smartmouth," and Clint will grin and let him have the last word. 

But Clint won't let _anyone_ have the last word in anything that's not mostly empty banter. Not even Steve, and it's _getting_ to him, because he's honestly worse than Tony with the back-talk, and Steve hadn't thought that was possible.

\-----

For a newly collared sub, Clint doesn't seem that thrilled. In fact, he wears clothing that will cover it. There's a lot of hooded sweatshirts recently, the material bunching around his neck and obscuring the dull gleam of the collar's matte finish. Tony recognizes the make, it's one of his, fancy and code-locked. Elegant like jewelry, the _Stark Industries_ logo stylized and unobtrusive on what Tony thinks of as the buckle section, where the flexible metallic material of the collar slides through to adjust, the length fixable at the lock, a smooth catch with seemingly old fashioned combination tumblers, number faces and an additional blank one, designed to match the rest of the collar and disguise the mechanism while it's being worn. Clint fiddles with them constantly, his thumb clicking through the digits. The thing, when Tony catches sight of it, is always a mess, displaying half-visible numbers, never tidily set to the metal faces that make the collar _pretty_. 

Weirder, for a newly collared sub, Clint doesn't seem eager for alone time with his dom, forever hanging out in the lab with him and Bruce, or watching Natasha while she does whatever, even if it doesn't necessarily include him. For one whole afternoon, Clint watches her read, and Tony doesn't know how she puts up with it, because Clint is an uncomfortable presence lately, tense and fidgety and that's when he's _not_ kind of creepily lingering.

"Don't you have someplace to be?" Tony asks when Clint starts to fall asleep on the couch, sitting in on a movie Tony knows he has less than zero interest in. "Don't you have a room? A bed? A whole floor, even? Don't you have _a dom_ who might want to see at least three seconds of you, now and then?"

Clint sits up and looks confused, for just a second, and then his expression goes very, very even. "Yeah," he says, reluctant, like it's being dragged out of him and Tony grins.

"Trouble in paradise already? Remind me to give you dom pleasing tips tomorrow. Now scoot."

Clint gets up, but rolls his eyes, "Like you'd know anything about pleasing anyone," he says.

"As a dom, I know what pleases _me_ ," Tony says, and smirks, "And I will be happy to give you advice anytime."

"Yeah, that's _just_ what I need," Clint grouses, but he stalks off and lets Tony relax the rest of the evening away in peace. 

\-----

In Steve's experience a sub with _problems_ needed a firm hand, or steady guidance. A collar first and manners later. Throwing their lack of training or their improper behavior in their face did more harm than good. Made the whole spiral of acting out worse, as each attempt to get someone to take them firmly in hand ended not in discipline, but in recrimination again and again. 

But when Clint acts out, the team ignores it, or they yell back and forth until one or the other stalks away to avoid losing their temper. It's not anything like how it had been with the Commandos, where they couldn't afford to let a sub find his footing on his own, because there was always the risk that he _wouldn't_. That something would happen, all of a sudden, that would require clear heads all around. When one of the Commandos' subs acted the way Clint does now, one of the others would be quick to take them down. To put a stop to their desperate rebellion by making it very clear that they belonged to the unit, to the team, and that the team would do their best for them, given that there was a war on and precious few guarantees.

They'd make it very clear that their behavior wouldn't be tolerated, because _people could die_. And there isn't a war on _now_ , exactly, but things go bad suddenly anyway, and people die albeit on a less regular basis. 

And considering that, Clint's behavior is intolerable.

\-----

When he gets back to his room, his phone, that he'd left on his bed, is blinking a _new message_ light at him. Clint picks it up and lets his thumb drift over the central button, knowing already who it's from. He hesitates, then figures no one will know if he reads it or not. He can _still_ pretend he didn't get it. Misplaced his phone. Left it at Nat's, or in the car or on the quinjet. It wouldn't be the first time. 

He pushes the button twice and the screen goes to menu and then to the message, _haven't seen you in a while_ , Clint picks out, skimming it, _falling a lot, Nick says_ , and _don't get hurt. Stop by when you're feeling better_. 

Clint frowns at the phone as his free hand goes to the collar, fussing again with the tumblers. There's too many possible combinations. He'll never get it off on guess work, and even if he did, the repercussions for doing so were--

He deletes the message and tugs his sweatshirt up a little. Checks the mirror. The collar is mostly hidden, but it's still obvious he's wearing one. 

He doesn't send Phil a reply.

\-----

"I don't know what's going on with you," Tony hears Fury say to Clint, because he's totally and shamelessly eavesdropping, "and I'm not going to say anything to Phil, because somehow-- _somehow, Barton_ \--he doesn't know about this." There's the sound of a sheaf of papers hitting the table. Tony doesn't need to see to know it's one of the magazines with _the_ picture on the cover--Clint grinning up at him as he comes in to land, Cap _just_ catching Clint by the collar. "Whatever you do isn't my business, but _Phil_ is my friend. And you? Are an asshole. Even if you've taken someone else's collar, it wouldn't kill you to answer a message. It wouldn't have killed you to _let him know_."

Being called an asshole by Nick Fury is an achievement in itself, and Tony gives Clint a wink as he comes out into the hall, looking like he's been through a wringer. "Hey there, Casanova. Got the boys up in arms over you, do ya?"

Clint looks at him, and he seems really unhappy for a man playing lovers against each other. He's got none of the devilish, assholic glee Tony associates with that kind of game. "Go away, Tony," he says, sounding tired. Sounding _awful_. 

"I can help you write a break up speech, if you want to let Agent down gently," Tony offers, because he's a pal. Clint glares.

"Go _away_ , Tony," he repeats.

\-----

Clint types Phil a message that consists of _sorry Phil, I'm so sorry_ , then deletes it without sending and falls backwards onto his bed, phone still in one hand. Then he throws it against the wall. Like certain other damnable _Stark Industries_ products, it refuses to break.

\-----

Steve doesn't understand how the team can let Clint get away with the reckless behavior and the smart mouth and the temper and not reel him in, but at the same time joke about his being a sub. 

That a sub like Clint can be a sniper and an agent of something like SHIELD and an Avenger is new, and Steve has nothing against it. Even though the subs in the Commandos were there out of necessity and desperation, he respects that they _were_ there, and they could and did fight. It's just different and unexpected to have a sub on a combat team when there's no frantic need for men, any men at all, to take up space on the front lines. No desperate shortage of people to throw at machine gun fire. 

What his new, _modern day_ team faces is usually far less mundane than machine guns, but Clint turns out to be as good as any dom--better, as any Commando--at throwing himself into them. He's so good at it, in fact, that Steve relabels 'good at' with 'over eager' and then 'over eager' with 'self destructive'. 

But they all let it be and joke about it. Even Bruce teases Clint about being a sub, telling him he's lucky they let him sit on the furniture, so get off the kitchen counter _now, please_ , and, _where have you even -been-, you're covered in -dust- and you sit where I make food?_

Clint grins, unrepentant, and says, "Aw, doc, you know you like it when I'm dirty," and no one addresses the fact that he's _still_ sitting on the counter.

Or that earlier that day he'd needlessly left his post to get much closer to a brawl than was necessary, and against Steve's explicit direction to _stay back_.

\-----

Clint loiters in the kitchen even though Tony and Pep are clearly trying to have an alone time sort of conversation. Possibly about how cute Pep's freckles are. Tony can't quite concentrate on choice of topic with a third wheel assassin dawdling about the place. He likes Clint, but Clint is totally destroying his domestic warmth good boyfriend moment.

Also, Clint keeps opening the fridge and closing it and every time he does, Pepper twitches, because she grew up in a home where electric bills were _a thing_ and even though the building has endless energy, she can't help herself. 

"Barton," Tony starts, and just as he's about to give Clint the bum's rush, Steve sticks his head in and says, "Clint," in that calm, firm voice that means Clint's not just wearing that collar as decoration, no matter how else he might be acting. 

Tony smirks and gives Clint a thumbs up, and says, "Be a good boy, Barton," but Pepper smacks his wrist and ruins Tony's supportive gesture by smiling an apology. 

Clint doesn't smile back. Or grin. Or make a biting comment. Instead he hunches his shoulders a bit, hiding the collar even more than usual, and slowly swings the fridge door shut. And then he just stands there looking at his hand wrapped around it's handle until Steve says, "Now please, Clint."

"It could just be me," Tony says to Pepper, "but that was very weird."

"Maybe he's nervous," Pepper suggests, but not with a lot of conviction, "It _is_ Captain America."

\-----

 _Did I do something?_ Phil sends, and the lack of elaboration probably means he's having a less-than-good day. Clint frowns at the screen and mentally types, _I'd come see you, but I'm wearing someone else's collar. Sorry_ , but doesn't hit any of the buttons. 

Then, after a while, because Fury's right about the radio silence being an asshole move, carefully punches out, _No. It's just been busy_. It won't fly for long, but maybe by then Phil will be stronger and the collar wont seem like the betrayal that it seems like now, with him stuck in medical.

 _Not that busy_ , Phil sends back, a while later, and Clint worries about how long that reply took. He really wishes he could go make sure Phil was okay, but he doesn't think Fury would tell him a damn thing, now. _Tell me if there's something I need to do_.

"You didn't do anything," Clint tells the phone, and would throw it again, but he's glad now that it hadn't broken. "You don't _need_ to do anything," but he doesn't send Phil a response. When the phone rings later, he lets it go to messages.

What would he say, anyway. Coulson _and_ Fury had told him to take it easy with Cap, and he'd known they were right. The man was lost in the modern world, and still catching up on how things had changed. Still catching up on how a war he'd been fighting _just yesterday_ was suddenly over half a century ago, and most everyone he'd known dead and gone. Let alone everything else.

He'd _known_ Steve didn't mean to be patronizing or insulting, that he slipped and sometimes was completely unaware that he was doing anything wrong, but it had just. Escalated. Somehow. The way Clint could make things go wrong without even trying or meaning to. 

\-----

"I'm doing _my job_ , Cap," Clint snaps, when Steve tries to talk to him about the recklessness and the near misses.

"I know," he says, "But keeping you safe is part of _my_ job. What the hell were you _doing_ today? Thor had it under control, and you're hardly armed to go grapple with a--a whatever that was." Clint gives him a suspicious, angry look and Steve goes back over his words and finds where he thinks his misstep is. Amends it to, "Keeping _the team_ safe is part of my job." 

Clint looks like Steve's confirmed something he's been thinking. He nods shortly and says, "Uh-huh," in empty agreement and stalks away without being dismissed. Steve watches him and watches Bruce--dressed in some medic's jacket, thrown over tattered pants--tug him over to get looked at and thinks of the subs he'd known in the war, quietly self destructing with no dom around who had any time or energy to hold themselves steady let alone someone else. 

He knows Coulson takes care of Clint--knows from overhearing Fury--but he also knows that Coulson is out of commission for a while. Maybe for a long while, still. His recovery is slow, for all that Loki's staff hadn't left a wound, and Clint is putting himself at needless risk _now_. 

Two weeks later, Clint falls off a building and lies in the rubble and says, "Hey, I'm in one piece. Neat," and Steve feels simultaneously a rush of relief and one of anger.

\-----

Clint leaves Steve's and comes back to the common area instead of going to his own room and curls up on the couch. He pulls the throw Natasha likes to leave there over himself and looks, to all intents and purposes, like he plans to camp out in the living room.

"The love nest is rocking in more than one way, huh?" Tony calls. Pepper's gone to bed, or he'd be more annoyed at the constant Barton presence tonight. Instead he feels kind of bad that Clint's new collaring doesn't seem to be going so smooth. "Want to paint toenails and talk about it?"

Clint doesn't snap at him or grouch. Instead he just shakes his head and mumbles something about going to sleep, and Tony can't quite help himself. He leans over the back of the couch to pat Clint's head, "Now, now, Barton. I know I'm not in the sub club, but--"

But Clint jerks away from the touch and ends up on the floor in a tangle of blanket and limbs. Tony would laugh, but Clint's clearly freaked by _something_. "You okay there? Is something wrong with your room? Do you need a nightlight?" 

_And what the fuck is wrong with Steve's room?_ he doesn't ask, because in his experience the whole snuggling after thing is a high point, and if Clint is here instead of there, doing that, then Clint would probably prefer he not ask.

\-----

Steve tries to talk to Clint about the reckless endangerment, but nothing he tries to say goes right after that one talk about keeping the team safe. Clint's snappish and suspicious and he stops sparring to glare and say, "Fuck you, Cap. I'm not some rookie who doesn't know the right end of his gun from his ass. Why don't you talk to _Tony_ about reckless endangerment. He nearly blew himself up today."

Steve does, in fact, have a plan to talk to Tony later about his propensity to cause things, including himself sometimes, to explode. "I will, but--"

"But what? Don't even pretend you're riding Stark the same way. Get the fuck off my back, Cap." 

Steve doesn't know how to answer that. He's not even that sure what Clint is taking exception to right now, except that it's completely out of proportion to anything that Steve's said or done. 

"Quiet down, Clint." 

Clint hisses, and his eyes flash rage, and then he's in Steve's space and snarling, " _You_ don't get to talk to me like that," and before Steve knows what he's even doing, he's got one hand on Clint's throat and the other on his upper arm, but Clint doesn't quiet down. Clint snarls and tries to twist away, and snaps, "Get your goddamn hands off me."

"I said _quiet_ ," Steve says, and uses his weight to fold Clint onto his knees. He doesn't really mean to. It's instinctive, almost a reflex, and Clint goes with a growl and then a gasp as Steve leaning into his grip closes off his air for a second. Steve lets him go and gets both hands on Clint's shoulders, close to his neck, thumbs over his throat, feeling his pulse race. 

And then, just like that, just like in the war, the combination of the firm tone along with the touch of violence and implied threat works like a switch being thrown, and Clint goes down. Not all the way yet, but enough that a lot of the fight goes out of him. 

"Steve? C'mon, Cap--" he says, and his voice has lost it's rage. Has gone almost pleading.

"No. You be quiet. If you're going to be on this team, you're going to _listen_."

Clint says, "I'm listening. I'm--"

"Talking," Steve interrupts, "I said _quiet_." Clint looks shocked, but then he nods and stills, relaxing, and when Steve tells him, "You're going to be good, Clint," he's gone, eyes hazy and faint tremors running down his arms. 

When Steve lets him go, Clint's head dips, then hangs. Steve tells him, "You're going to learn to be obedient, Clint. You're going to have rules, and you're going to follow them. Do you understand?" 

Clint nods, sluggish and hesitant and Steve tips his head up. "I'll be good," Clint promises, soft. Desperate. 

"I said no talking, Clint," Steve reminds him, and Clint's breath catches. After a few long seconds, he nods uncertainly, and Steve says, "Good boy. Stay put and I'll be back in a second."

\-----

The collar wont come off. Clint curls himself up under the blanket, with his fingers jammed under it, keeping it off his skin as much as he can. Usually, the things Tony makes are amazing, but this one Clint can't stand the feel of. He feels like it's choking him, or scraping his throat raw. 

When he'd imagined wearing Phil's collar, he hadn't pictured it feeling like this. Like a shameful brand. And then there's that fucking picture that's all over the place, that Tony has stuck to the fridge with heart magnets, and that Clint doesn't dare tear down. Every time he sees it his stomach turns over and he feels a ghost of the moment when he'd realized that Steve was going to force him down--a strange, terrifying sinking into himself feeling. Feels the gut-ache of all the corrections Steve had given him, _no talking_ , and _I said -listen-_ , and _No, Clint_.

All the _goods_ were so hard earned that he feels sick with want and anxiety even now, with Steve no where in sight. With a drop right behind him. Steve won't put him down for a while now, unless he asks for it. 

Unless he fucks up.

"Are you sick, Clint?" someone asks, and Clint remembers Tony talking at him, but the voice is wrong.

"Can we take the picture down?" he asks, and is surprised how tentative it comes out.

"What are you--? The fridge one?" It's Bruce. His hand ghosts over Clint's face, careful, and Clint feels himself shiver. "Are you cold? You don't seem feverish. Let me get Steve, okay?"

He feels scared sometimes, when it's with Phil. More often when it's Fury, which has only been an occasional thing, but Steve he knows he can't help but fail. Even Steve's collar is a sign of his failure. "Don't," he says, and covers it with, "he's asleep."

"I'm sure he'll prefer we woke him up," Bruce says, and there's no argument for that, so Clint nods and lets him.

\-----

Clint curls himself into Steve when he gets there, and Tony's not surprised at that, or at the gentle way Steve handles him, petting and murmuring and offering quiet praise that Clint eats up like he's starved for it.

What surprises him is that Clint protests Bruce's offer to call Steve pretty much until the moment that he runs out of excuses and the ability to think up excuses, and Tony's seen subs before that needed a break, that were exhausted by the demands put on them, but Clint's collar is relatively new. 

He asks Pepper, "If you were a sub, would you be tired of me?"

"I'm a dom and I'm tired of you," Pepper mumbles, sleepy and annoyed at being asked theoretical questions at three in the morning.

"How long do you think it would take you?"

"You made me tired from day one, Tony. Go to sleep."

"I'm sure you mean a good tired," Tony says, "and you're just too sleepy to elaborate."

He's worried about Clint.

\----

Clint practically abandons his room. Every time Steve goes to find him, he's with Natasha, or hanging about in the lab or even up on the roof, listening to Thor explain the interrelationships of different dimensions and how it is that Mjolnir can carry him in flight even though the hammer is a solid block of metal.

"To all appearances," Thor is saying, holding it out but not letting go, because Clint won't be able to lift it.

Clint is about to wrap his hand around Mjolnir's handle when he sees Steve and sinks quietly to his knees instead. Thor looks confused. 

"Is this a part of the complicated Midgardian love ritual?" he asks, curiously, but Clint stays quiet. 

In the Howling Commandos days, Steve would have felt a rush of pride and grinned and offered praise and the rest of his team would have noisily teased him, and later Clint, when it was appropriate to talk to him again. Thor only frowns and something about the look makes the pleased feeling turn to vapor, even though he knows Thor doesn't understand how things work on Earth.

\-----

 _What is Nick not telling me?_ Phil sends him, after a few days have passed. _Why aren't you answering your phone?_

 _Are you seriously asking why I don't call?_ Clint sends back and then follows it with a smiley face, just in case Phil thinks he's being an asshole. 

_I'm asking why you don't pick up,_ Phil sends back, _Are you alright? Is it something to do with Loki?_

Clint caves and calls him, and Phil picks up on the second ring. He says, "It's not and I'm fine, and I just can't make it, and--" Someone's at his door. 

He hangs up in mid sentence, and then throws the phone at the wall. Stalks to the door to yank it open and snaps, "What?"

It's Steve, and that makes his rage worse, because now he can't even talk on the phone to Phil without feeling like he's committing some kind of betrayal and he hadn't even _wanted_ Steve's collar. "Go _away_ , Steve. I _live_ here, goddammit." 

Steve looks like he doesn't know what that has to do with anything, and he _wouldn't_. Steve thinks this is fucking great. "Clint," he says, with that gentle tone that makes Clint want to crawl to him when he's down and do _anything_ to please him. 

Right now it just pisses him off. 

Steve takes a step towards him and without knowing he's going to, Clint finds his footing and _shoves_. It doesn't do much. Steve outweighs him by too much, and Clint's telegraphed his anger loudly enough that Steve's ready for the unexpected. He catches himself and then catches Clint, and somehow, before he knows it, he's on his knees.

"Don't," he tells Steve, putting as much threat in it as possible, but Steve edges around the door and swings it shut behind him. "Don't," he says, then, "Please, Cap."

Steve says, "It's alright, Clint," but he puts him down anyway. 

\-----

At their next debriefing, Fury gives Clint one long look that could be disappointment or recrimination or some other more mysterious Fury emotion, then doesn't look at him again. 

Clint, for his part, keeps his head down and his eyes on the table top. Stays quiet unless he's spoken to. 

It would be perfect behavior if it was maybe nineteen fourty-four. For the present, and considering it's _Hawkeye_ , it's a bit creepy. Tony nudges him with his elbow, but he doesn't knock it off. 

\-----

Steve won't take the collar off. Steve won't give him the code so he can take it off himself. 

Clints evaded him into the relative safety of Bruce's workshop, empty now, this late in the night since Bruce keeps more reasonable hours than Tony. No one will think to look for him here. At least for a while unless JARVIS narcs on him.

He rolls the collar's tumblers under his thumb, hearing the numbers click through, and wishes he'd thought to bring his phone. Not that he would call Phil in the middle of the night, but he could--

He could see Phil if he didn't have the collar. If Phil wouldn't ask him whose it was. Clint could lie and evade with the best of them, but if Phil asked, the whole thing would spill out of him. _Captain America made me._

Phil would believe him. He knows it. It's just that that would be worse, maybe, than Phil telling him he was full of shit. 

_Your fucking hero forces me down._

He couldn't do that to Phil.

\-----

Punishment, as far as Steve can tell, does nothing. Clint kneels and keeps his eyes down and waits for permission and--off mission--doesn't speak out of turn, but he doesn't curb any of the behaviors Steve had _wanted_ to control. 

Clint fights being put down, and then is almost frighteningly desperate for approval, scared and shivering when he thinks he's not going to get it, then leaning relieved into Steve when he does. But as soon as he comes out of it, he bolts, slamming out of the room as soon as he has permission, even if it's his _own_ room.

He's still in the line of fire more often than he needs to be. Still throwing himself off things and into things and surviving by miracles and quick thinking. And not always his own quick thinking, either.

\-----

"Clint?" 

Tony looks up and echoes, "Clint? What, Clint?" and Bruce nods at where the crash cot is occupied by a huddled figure. "What the hell?"

Clint doesn't wake until Bruce touches him, which means he's exhausted, and he comes up flailing, which could mean anything from that he's had a bad dream to that he'd fallen asleep while trying to stay on guard.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asks him, quiet and patient like he's talking to a spooked kid, and now Tony can see that Clint kind of looks that way, large eyed and a bit confused looking. His hand is caught in his collar again. 

Tony's not sure how often he's seen that gesture, but it's frequent enough that it's familiar. And off. He'd always thought it was off. 

"This random place nap thing is getting out of hand, Barton," he says, reaching slowly to take Clint's wrist and pull--carefully--until Clint lets go and he can ease his hand away. "Aw, jeez."

Bruce takes a quiet breath, then quickly changes it to something that sounds more neutral and tips Clint's head up--he's doing that lowered eyes thing again. The off-character one that bugs Tony like hell--until he makes eye contact, then asks, "Did you do this, Clint?" and brushes a thumb carefully near the scratches on his neck, around the collar.

They're not deep. They don't even look intentional. But they do look like a frantic accident. Like panic. Clint shudders and Tony bats Bruce's hand away so Clint can do his polite sub of a past era thing in peace.

"It won't come off," Clint says, eventually, voice low and shaky, "I couldn't. Couldn't get it off."

"Shh." Tony's palled around with subs before, before his truly complicated thing with Pepper, and they could get weird about collars. Even temporary, for-fun, tonight-only, not-real ones. "Is it hurting you?" It shouldn't. Tony has all his products extensively safety tested. Especially the ones that lock and don't come off. "Steve will get it--"

Clint's head jerks up. "No. Tony, no. Please. It--"

"He'll have the code, unless he forgot it like he keeps forgetting the pizza delivery number. How many digits is that? It's not even--"

"He won't," Clint murmurs, and bows his head again, all tidy sleep-mussed submission, half-under, somehow. Like he's put himself there. "He won't take it off. I--He put it on when. Because I was. Because I fucked up." 

"Jesus," Bruce says.

\-----

Tony storms into the kitchen and hurls something heavy and metallic at him. Steve isn't expecting it, so he doesn't duck in time, but Tony's not nearly strong enough to cause him real damage. Whatever it is hits his face then falls with a loud thump to the table.

It's Clint's collar.

"Fuck you, Steve," Tony snaps at him, "Just _fuck you_." He looks angrier than Steve's ever seen him. "You _forced_ him? I knew he was acting weird, but I didn't think _you_ , of all people. Oh, _fuck_. I thought it was just a make-Steve-feel-at-home-in-the-new-fangled-present gushy sub thing he was doing. Jesus _fuck_ , Steve."

Tony doesn't elaborate. Just stands there glaring, then tilts his head like something in his peripheral vision's caught his attention. "Shit," he says. " _Shit_ ," and storms to the fridge, where he rips down the magazine cover posted there and crumples it up to throw that at Steve, too.

Then he picks it back up and rips it into pieces and throws _those_ at Steve. They flutter around him as he blinks, bewildered.

\-----

"Tony had an override," Clint tells Nat, without any other explanation, and she raises her eyebrows at him then brushes the back of a finger against his neck, where the collar used to be. It's kind of thrilling to feel touch there. To feel air move against the skin. He grins at her, then can't stop grinning.

"Of course Tony had an override," Bruce says, in a way that probably means he's _been_ saying it, "People forget the combinations for things all the time. He'd be open to so many lawsuits if he didn't have a fail safe in that thing." He shoves a mug into Clint's hand, and Clint drinks when he's told. 

"Tea? Seriously, Bruce?" It's weak, but sweet and warm. It's great. _Everything_ is great.

Nat pats him and says, "Simmer down, Barton. If you get hysterical I swear to god I will slap you silly."

And then her phone jangles and Clint jumps. 

\-----

Getting rid of the collar doesn't fix Clint. He doesn't go back to smartass Barton the way Tony'd known was unrealistic, but had hoped for anyway. He still hangs out around the rest of the team for ridiculous amounts of time, instead of taking off on his own like before the whole thing with Steve. 

He ignores his phone until Coulson starts calling the rest of the team, and then _Fury_ calls the rest of the team. Tony rejects the third call that day and says, "See your boyfriend, Barton, okay? Before I lose my entire fucking mind. I have a _Fury ringtone_ now. For evasion purposes, sure, but that's not the point."

Clint looks up and away, and then his hand goes to his throat. Falls away again. Tony rolls his eyes and picks up his phone again. 

"Agent! Long time no speak."

\-----

Coulson's face is some strange mixed expression. A an odd hard-angry-soft-sad-gentle expression. Steve has no idea how to read it. 

"It's not the war, Steve," he says, sitting with the hospital bed adjusted so he can lean back comfortably. That he's wearing a hospital gown with a zippered sweatshirt over it does nothing to diminish the air of professional competence that Coulson always has. He may as well be in one of his perfect suits. 

It seems like _a_ war, to Steve, but he doesn't say so. Maybe alien threat is normal now. Maybe nobody else feels the rug pulled out from under their feet by it. He's understood that he's miscalculated just about everything else.

Coulson takes a breath and lets it out, then says, with more sympathy than Steve thinks he probably deserves, "You were right that Clint was spinning. The thing with Loki--" he trails off, then says, "He didn't need to be _more_ out of control, Steve."

Steve could explain his thought process, but he doesn't. "Coulson--"

Coulson waves away his apology, but his face is very, very calm when he says, "We never briefed you on how things have changed. _Some_ things, yes, but. You can't drop subs without their permission, Steve. You don't _touch_ subs without their permission, and you sure as hell don't do either to Clint. Do you understand me? You don't touch him, you don't stand too close to him, you don't _raise your voice_ at him. And you don't ever, _ever_ put him down again without his consent."

 _I was afraid he was going to get himself killed_ , Steve doesn't say, but it's like Coulson knows what he's thinking.

"It's not the war, Steve," he says, "it hasn't been the war for a long time."

\-----

Phil keeps looking at him, like he can see straight through him, and Clint fights the urge to sink to his knees, then gives in to it. Hears Phil sigh. 

"You didn't return any of my messages," he says, and Clint _had_ , a couple anyway, but he keeps his mouth shut. "Or answer your phone. I was scared to death, Clint."

He's not sure what to say. What the right answer is. Maybe _sorry_ , maybe _Yes, Coulson_. His hands twitch as he fights the urge to fist them. The floor in front of his knees has the dull shine that's all over medical. Squeaky clean and anti-slip. 

"You weren't going to tell me about the collar?" Phil asks, and Clint jerks his head up. Phil picks up a magazine from his side table, then drops it again, without really holding it up. Clint knows what's on the cover, anyway, even without getting a look at it. "Nurses thought I was bored," he said, "Thought I might want to catch up on the gossip. They have a notable lack of anything about fishing down at the nurses' station. They gave me this and a _People_."

And then, when Clint doesn't answer, "You didn't come see me." He sounds hurt.

Clint hadn't. Wasn't going to. Wouldn't be here now if Tony and Nat hadn't practically dragged him. "Sorry," he says, "I'm sorry."

"You want to get off your knees? That floor looks chilly."

Clint hesitates, then does, then lets Coulson coax him closer until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and then lying tucked up against Phil, his face pressed into Phil's side. He's not really sure how he gets there, but when he pulls his feet up Phil doesn't even care that he's still wearing his boots.

\-----

Coulson seems to be handling the whole thing freakishly well, courteous and polite and inhumanly even-keeled, out of medical and calling the tower home, at least for now. But then, Tony thinks, Coulson also seems to have re-categorized Steve as something other than the star-spanglipants hero of his childhood. 

Which is just as well, because Steve maybe needs someone to see him as a traumatized, lost kid and tell him how to be a grown up of the modern times. Fury maybe thinks so, too, because he sends him to some kind of culturalization classes that Steve dutifully attends, his face more full of guilt the more realizes how badly he's fucked up.

Tony hadn't really realized how out of whack Steve's perceptions were, or he might not have thrown the collar at his face. Or no. He would have anyway. Steve only had a shiner for a day and a half and that was the _least_ he deserved.

\-----

Clint shivers, kneeling between Coulson's thighs--a submissive gesture he'd never have let them see before, Steve thinks, and feels something twist inside his chest--and murmurs something, too low even for Steve's enhanced hearing. 

Coulson smiles and says, "Quiet, quiet," and pats him.

"Heart can't take it?" Clint asks, innocently, but he puts his head on Coulson's knee and after a few minutes sighs and relaxes. He's been talking the whole time that Coulson's been telling him _quiet_ , but Coulson doesn't seem to care. Just shushes gently until it eventually takes.

Then Clint shudders hard and pulls back, and Coulson says, quickly, "That's okay. You don't have to go down."

Steve ducks back through the doorway, into the kitchen, and Coulson's voice drifts after him, low and patient and reassuring, talking over Clint's apologies. 

\-----

There's a Fury apology, and that just weirds Tony out. He overhears it because he's listening in to yet another "A minute, Barton" post-debrief conversations, but this time not so much out of snoopiness, but so he can give Fury a piece of his mind if he decides to give Clint grief. 

He doesn't. 

It turns out that Coulson's given _Fury_ grief about not filling him in, about lecturing _his_ sub, and about leaving Coulson out of the loop in regards to his own relationship. Tony tries to picture Coulson dressing Fury down, and is surprised that the image isn't even that hard to conjure.

\-----

"I was going to offer you a collar," Phil says, one night, after Clint's ducked away from him again, spooking as he feels himself going down. Fearing the helplessness of it, and balking before he can get lost in it. He's pressed close to Phil now, turned with his back against Phil's side, his head on Phil's arm. 

A handful of responses tumble over each other in his head. _I'm sorry_ , and _I'll do better_ and _I understand_ , but what comes out is, "Don't. I didn't do anything wrong." 

Phil's arm tightens, pulling him closer for a second in an awkward hug, and then he shifts around onto his side and drops his other arm over Clint, and kisses the back of his neck.

"I know. You're so good."

He's not and it feels like cheating to not have done anything to earn the praise, but it makes him feel quiet and safe, so he lets Phil tell him he is anyway.

"I was going to offer you a collar," Phil tries again, "Before. And then there was the Avengers and the--" The Loki thing, the nearly dying thing. The _Steve_ thing. Clint doesn't know if he can wear a collar. He'd wanted it, before, but now the thought of it also makes him think, _you're going to have rules and you're going to follow them_. 

He must have made a sound, because Phil shushes into his hair and says, "I still want you, Clint. But--"

"But?"

He feels Phil smile against the back of his head, and then he's released. "There's a box in my bag. Go get it. I'd do it, but my heart can't take the exertion."

"Lazy," Clint says, to cover up the way his heart is pounding.

\-----

Tony finds Clint in the kitchen alone, in the too-early morning that often functions as Tony's evening. He's sitting with both hands on the table, eyes on the dark cuffs that circle both his wrists, the thumb of one hand playing over one of the closures. They're traditional and simple. No fancy locks or near-indestructible materials, closing with a simple strap and buckle. Clint could be out of them in a second, if he wanted, but he doesn't look like he does. The movement of his fingers over the cuffs is entirely different than the way he'd fussed at the collar. Calm and pleased instead of restless and anxious.

"Well, well," Tony says, and waggles his eyebrows when Clint looks up. Clint doesn't grin, so Tony doesn't tease him. Just thumps him on the shoulder a couple of times and then goes to find and harass Coulson instead.

\-----

The media get a picture of Clint without the collar, and then one of him in the cuffs, again in the moments after battle, as they're gathering up to assess damages and injuries. This time, Clint's still instead of jogging up, his head lowered as Coulson, one hand on his clipped-together cuffs, yells at someone over the comms. It's not as great a shot as the Steve photo, but Clint's grin in this one is clearly directed at his dom, not away. 

There's no way to misread this one. 

Clint lets Natasha save the cover of one of the magazines that run it, but is glad no one sticks it on the fridge. And not because the copy isn't flattering, because Nat cuts that part of the page off.

\-----

"Hawkeye breaks Captain America's heart?" Tony reads, peering at, but not accepting the bunch of glossy pages a reporter holds out. He adjusts his shades. Grins. "Yep. Love 'em 'an leave 'em Hawkeye, is exactly what we call him," he says, then snorts.

"You guys are real traditionalists, huh? Not into the cuffs option? The collar didn't really fit under his uniform, I think he said. That's really all that happened. He was never with Cap. _You guys_ said he was with Cap. Are we done here?"

They aren't.

Public displays don't seem like Coulson's thing, so Tony's sure this whole second picture business is a Coulson-orchestration to get everyone to move on and leave Clint in peace. And the least _Tony_ can do after failing to notice what was going on with Steve and Clint is to help get rid of the constant reminders.

" _That_ picture?" he says, when they bring up the older photo, "He's not even smiling at Cap. He's smiling at _me_. _Everyone_ smiles at me. Just another reason it's good to be Tony Stark."

Without the Captain America angle, Clint's love life is less interesting. 'Boring balding Agent enjoys boring things, dates un-super Avenger' doesn't sell nearly as well as Steve and scandal, so when the next question is asked Tony finds himself answering, "Yes, Pepper is also a dom. No, no one is the sub. Are you even kidding me with this? _Again_? "


End file.
